


Close to Godliness

by thebifrostgiant



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bath Sex, Bathing/Washing, Bathtub Sex, Bottom Tony Stark, Friends to... Whatever This Is, Hair Washing, Hand Jobs, Light Dom/sub, Loki (Marvel) Does What He Wants, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Tony Stark Gets What He Wants, Top Loki (Marvel), soap as lube, yes this was inspired by that tweet with the dog, you know the one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:13:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23073778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebifrostgiant/pseuds/thebifrostgiant
Summary: Loki’s trying to enjoy a nice bath but...
Relationships: Loki/Tony Stark
Comments: 6
Kudos: 183





	Close to Godliness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rabentochter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rabentochter/gifts).



> Happy birthday dear Sesil. Here’s to you blessing the world for [redacted] years, and for many more to come. To celebrate, I got you exactly what you asked for! 😆❤️

Loki sighs, leaning his head back against the wall of the tub. The water, nearly hot enough to scald, is a soothing relief to the tension and residual soreness in his muscles, a repercussion of sparring with his brother and the captain. The scented steam that rises and wafts against his face relaxes him further. 

He closes his eyes for a moment, letting the world and the sweat of the day wash away and focusing on nothing more than the lingering satisfaction of getting the upper hand on _both_ of his erstwhile opponents. 

Then he hears the door _snick_ open. 

He cracks an eye, expecting to see Thor crowding into the room and bugging him about something or other regarding their match. Already, he feels mildly harassed that it couldn’t wait until he was done bathing. Then both eyes fly open in surprise. 

Anthony is filthy from head to toe, his normally black shirt and sweatpants gone grey and slinky with off-white foam, hair clinging to his forehead like a half-drowned hound. 

“Stark-“ he starts to say, sitting up with a slosh, more than a little caught off guard by the sudden intrusion. He lifts a brow at the man, but Anthony doesn’t seem to be listening. “What are you-“

And then the mortal starts taking his clothes off, and Loki can only stare, the conclusion of his sentence utterly forgotten. 

Anthony, without a word, steps over to the tub and swings his legs in, turns around — giving Loki a _very_ proximate glimpse of his pert behind — and sits down in the water with his knees tucked up to his chest. 

Loki gapes. It’s undignified, truly, but he hasn’t a slight idea as to what exactly is going on, and well, no one is there to witness it. 

“Sorry,” Anthony says. _Sorry._ “It’s just, this is the only bathroom I can use. Mine's broken — long story — the one in the lab is currently being used for storage, I think there’s a Tesla coil in there — also a long story — and Steve is in the training room showering and I didn’t want to shower with Steve, so this was the only place left.” His voice has risen slightly in pitch by the end of it, strung in a way Loki can’t quite define. He shrugs rather dramatically, and Loki finally drags himself out of his torpor. 

He sighs again, and doesn’t deign to reply to any of that. Instead, he picks up a loofah, and, long-sufferingly, adds some nicely scented soap to it and begins scrubbing at Anthony’s dirty shoulder. 

Anthony’s posture loosens at once, and he turns to give Loki a relieved look. 

“Thanks, Lokes.”

Loki rolls his eyes. 

“How you even get yourself into these circumstances, I’ll never wrap my head around.”

“It wasn’t my fault this time. Dum-E got a little carried away again. You know what he’s like.”

“You’re the one who made him. Who else’s fault would it be?”

Anthony huffs, but belies the ostensible irritation by settling back further into the tub, going pliant as Loki washes the fire extinguisher foam from his back.

When Loki drags the loofah up to Anthony’s neck, however, the man, seemingly unthinkingly, tips his head to the side, and Loki swallows, staring at the smooth skin glistening with water droplets.

Carefully, he continues washing Anthony, gently so as not to scrape him up, but firm enough to clean his skin. Only, now that he’s paying attention — how can he not be? Anthony is gorgeous on the best of days, even covered in dirt and grime, and he’s so close, and naked, and practically in Loki's lap — he can hear the quiet little hums of appreciation, feel every time Anthony shifts in the water, and though there’s the loofah between his fingers and Anthony’s skin, he can feel each contour of the man’s body. With the heat of the bath and the nearness of Anthony’s body, it makes his head spin. 

Anthony gives what can only be described as a moan, and shifts again — and _Ymir_ , would he stop doing that? — and lolls his head back to glance at Loki. 

“That’s nice, Loki,” he says, and when he catches Loki’s eyes with his own, they’re darker than Loki has seen them before, dark and accepting and — _oh._

Well. If the man wants to play games, Loki would be remiss not to indulge him. 

Loki stretches his legs out on either side of Anthony and leans his chest against his back. Anthony shivers despite the heat, and Loki grins wickedly. 

“Mmm,” he purrs by the ear in front of his face, a faintly agreeing sound. “Nice.” 

He lets the loofah glide slowly over Anthony’s shoulder and down the front of his arm, touch teasingly light as he allows the soap to lather away at streaks of grease and assorted stains across the skin. 

“You,” Loki tells him lowly, far from a censure of any kind. “Are _filthy_.”

Anthony swallows audibly, and his head falls against Loki's shoulder. 

“Do something about it.” 

Perhaps it’s meant as a challenge, meant to bait, but his voice is soft and wavers slightly, nothing but an enticement to Loki’s ears. 

His face is flushed and damp from steam and Loki’s touch, eyes flicking closed as he lets Loki lift up his arm to wash the underside of it, lets Loki do whatever he wants. 

He wraps his own arm across Anthony to wash his other shoulder, watching water and foam run down his thick, defined bicep, cutting trails through the dirt and leaving smooth, clean skin beneath. 

Loki can feel each of the man’s breaths fanning against his neck, the weight of him solid in his arms, familiar and new, his head filled with the scent of Anthony, of oil and metal and the slight tinge of smoke. 

He abandons the loofa and slides soapy hands all along warm flesh and the hard curve of muscles, tensing and trembling beneath his touch. 

“Loki,” Anthony says quietly, faintly surprised, like he hadn’t been expecting Loki to go all out. 

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” he breathes, traces of pleasure twined in an exhale, and Loki smiles. 

He hums, and presses his lips to Anthony’s shoulder. The skin is warm and wet and delicious enough that he keeps his mouth there for a moment, relishing the clean taste and the soft moan that fills his ears. He gives a sharp nip, lips twitching in amusement when Anthony yelps and pulls away to level him with a halfhearted glare. 

“No?” He asks, lifting an eyebrow and still fighting back a grin. The water splashes as he raises his hands innocently. “I assure you, I can keep my teeth to myself if you want me to.”

Anthony’s eyes flick over his face, not believing him for an instant — and it’s touching that the man knows him so well, truly — but he leans back into Loki’s embrace anyway, compliant as ever. Loki bites him again, because he just can’t help himself, but keeps his mouth gentle this time, just the barest scrape of teeth chased with his tongue to soothe. 

Anthony just snorts, and while it’s not a particularly sexy sound, Loki pulls him closer anyway. He mouths his way slowly up to Anthony’s jaw, as meticulous as he’d been while washing him, plying his neck with lips and tongue until the man honest to god whimpers. 

He grips Anthony’s chin in his fingers and turns his face, pausing with their lips just a hairsbreadth away, taking in the way Anthony’s long eyelashes flutter as his eyes close, his mouth parted slightly in invitation, leaning effortlessly into Loki’s hold, willing, _wanting_. 

Loki kisses him, a soft, tiny thing that Anthony immediately follows, craning his head further toward Loki’s. His eyes flick open when Loki’s lips meet his cheek instead, and he reaches up to grab at one of Loki’s hands still caressing along his body to grip it tightly. 

“Loki,” he whines, not at all enjoying being denied. Loki, on the other hand...

“Yes?” he asks sweetly, far too sweetly for someone being so deliberate, turning his hand in Anthony’s to wrap their fingers together. “What is it?”

“You’re cruel.” 

Loki laughs delightedly. 

“Cruel? Why, because I do not rush? Because I take my time to make sure every last inch has been cleaned? That is cruel to you?”

Anthony pulls away from him, and Loki lets him go, feeling wrong-footed for a second, not having meant to _offend_. 

But Anthony merely turns around, facing Loki, and lowers himself across Loki’s lap, making the water ripple around them. He grabs fistfuls of Loki’s hair on either side, and Loki’s hands come up to his hips, not at all minding _this_. 

He stares up at the mortal, his eyes intense and hotter than the water, teeth bared and panting, hair still dirty and clinging against his scalp, feeling a breath hitch in his own throat as Anthony shifts and grazes his cock. 

Anthony tugs him forward, unwilling to be refused again, and Loki goes easily as he leans down and all but slams their mouths together. Loki groans against his lips, fingers digging into Anthony’s ass and pulling him closer as the man’s tongue slides along his own insistently. 

Loki indulges it for a few moments, quite appreciating the way Anthony pulls gently at his hair, the firm press of thighs against his hips. Eventually, however, he leans back, letting just the barest hint of water-warm fingertips skim along Anthony’s spine, up to his nape, making him shiver as a drop of water runs slowly back down. 

“Not until you’re clean.” 

Anthony’s brows furrow. Confused. Possibly frustrated. Loki shifts the rather fond smile that wants to form into something else entirely. 

“You wanted me to ‘ _do something about it,_ ’” he murmurs, letting his voice go breathy and desperate as Anthony’s had been. “Every. Last. Inch.” 

He’d promised, hadn’t he? And he’d never go back on his word. Well, unless it suited him to do so, but now.... _Now_ , he will thoroughly enjoy making sure he fulfills his self-appointed duty. Anthony could have chosen to shower with Steve, after all. 

Loki threads his fingers through the fine hairs at the back of the man’s neck. He leans forward and urges Anthony back at the same time, enough that he can sit up, but he keeps Anthony firmly against him, one hand running back and forth over his leg and the other grasping for the bottle of shampoo. 

He reaches both hands up to massage the shampoo into Anthony’s hair, scrubbing his scalp deftly, coaxing the rich lather and familiar scent deep into the strands. 

Anthony soaks it up like a purring cat. He braces a hand on Loki’s shoulder, the other mapping its way across his chest, soft noises passing through his bitten lips. 

After Loki rinses his hair, he can’t resist kissing him again, holding him close and smelling the scent of his own shampoo on Anthony, heady and wonderful and _his_. 

Some of the earlier urgency has bled into a languid sort of fervor, and Anthony seems content for the moment to just enjoy being kissed and share long, unhurried touches. 

Loki grabs the soap again, uncapping it with one hand and tipping a generous amount of it over his fingers. He reaches behind Anthony, sliding his unsoaped hand down his side and grabbing a — delightful — handful of his ass, still kissing him thoroughly, hot and deep even as the water cools its way to tepid. 

With Anthony sufficiently distracted, he drags one slippery finger between his cheeks, stroking over his hole. 

Anthony gasps, breaking away from Loki's lips to hide his face in his neck, the soft scrape of his beard against Loki’s sensitive skin sending a frisson through him. He tilts his head and brushes a kiss to the mortal’s temple, nose pressed into damp hair as he slips his finger further, rubbing just inside Anthony’s rim and slicking him up. 

“God,” Anthony chokes out, muffled against Loki's skin. Loki smirks, satisfied at the _praise_. “You really-“ he breaks off to clamp his mouth against Loki’s neck for a moment, whelmed by pleasure. “-weren’t kidding.” 

“No,” Loki replies, the word more of a groan as Anthony starts fidgeting in his lap, tilting his ass back to get more of Loki’s finger, deeper, _harder_. “I most certainly meant it.” 

He adds another finger, just as slowly as the first, not giving in to Anthony’s persistence even as the man starts grinding their cocks together so sweetly. Loki pants, eyes squeezing shut, and curls his fingers. 

The sound Anthony makes is almost enough to make Loki flip them over, teleport to some bed or other, and fuck the mortal hard and fast and not nearly so _gentle,_ until all he can make is _that_ _sound_ and calls of Loki’s name. 

But _almost_ and _enough_ are not quite the same thing. 

The rhythm he sets isn’t swift, but it’s firm and steady and Anthony accepts it surprisingly well, and Loki, quite pleased with him, holds him close, kisses his jaw, his throat, the flutter of a pulse that he feels beneath his lips. He skims his fingers down Anthony’s chest and stomach, wraps them around his cock, and Anthony cries out beautifully, jerking forward into Loki’s touch. 

“Is that better?” he asks, just to be a pest, expecting a glare or a snarky rejoinder. Instead, Anthony just nods, wriggling between both of Loki’s hands. 

“Yes, Loki,” he says, too steeped in bliss to be anything but sincere, and Loki revels in how _wrecked_ he is, how wrecked _Loki_ has made him. 

Loki ignores for now his own throbbing cock — he can be patient, when the reward is worthy of his diligence — and instead focuses on crooking his fingers _just_ _so_ as he fucks them into the man, on working Anthony’s shaft with the right amount of pressure and speed, on teasing out more of those lovely noises for him to hear. 

Anthony kisses him again, all but mewling into his mouth, nowhere near coordinated as Loki’s hands bring him higher and higher. He clings to Loki, his arms around his neck, and tips his head back to breathe, panting and shaking, face wrung with pleasure. 

Loki presses his lips against his mortal’s ear, purrs out his name — “ _Anthony_ “ — and gives a final thrust, working Anthony through it as he spills all over himself, over Loki’s hand and stomach. 

Anthony, still gasping, slumps forward, his whole weight against Loki, and Loki’s arms come up on instinct to catch him. He nuzzles his face against Loki’s neck, head tucked under his chin, careless of the now cold water and seeming to want nothing more for the moment than to be held. 

Loki’s heart clenches just the tiniest bit. 

Then Anthony recovers enough to sit up, come sticking between their bodies. He looks down at himself with a grimace. Loki grins. 

“Oh, look.” He clicks his tongue in a mockery of disapproval, a thrill pulsing through his veins. “You’ve made such a mess.” He catches Anthony’s chin, looks him in the eye, just so he can see the realization dawn in those dark depths. And, maybe, just maybe, it _is_ cruel. “I think I’m going to have to clean you up. _Again_.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Sesil, since I know you love puns, let me just emphasize _bubble butt_
> 
> And everyone else, this is your reminder to please not use soap as lube!


End file.
